


Peony

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/M, Female Dwalin, Ficlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-22 07:52:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3721042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dwalin gets a pleasant surprise in the peace of Beorn’s home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peony

**Author's Note:**

  * For [leaper182](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leaper182/gifts).



> A/N: Fill for leaper182’s “Fem!Dwalin/Ori - first kiss” prompt on [my tumblr](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

The sun outside is sweltering, or maybe she’s just worked up her sweat from too much exertion. In an attempt to be _useful_ at Beorn’s, where everything else is oversized honey and roses, Dwalin’s volunteered to chop wood to stock up for the upcoming winter. Normally, it would be a piece of cake to a warrior like her, but Beorn’s pile is full of lumber larger than her whole body, and she can’t stop herself from trying to compete with him. A dwarf, even one like her, is no match for a _bear_ , but she swings the giant axe with a vengeance anyway, splitting right down the middle. 

She pauses with the tool in the air when she catches movement in her peripherals. Here, she expects a too-friendly animal, but instincts always leave her ready for orcs. Instead, another dwarf comes walking around the bend of Beorn’s cabin, carrying a tray in his little arms. 

Recognizing Ori without having to turn, Dwalin goes back to chopping. Her pile’s never going to catch up to her host’s if she lets herself be drawn into staring at pretty dwarves. Not that there’re many in their company. Fíli and Kíli have a certain beauty to them, but a little too cosmetically and silly for Dwalin’s taste. Bofur and Nori are handsome and _almost_ soft enough, but Ori’s really the complete package: the sort of person she’d describe to Thorin for a dream date whilst laughing over ale. They shared looks between them when they first met Ori, and Dwalin had had to suppress the urge not to follow and overprotect him at every turn. Fortunately, Thorin’s too good of a friend to ever shatter Dwalin’s private fantasies: he’s yet to point out what’s obvious to Dwalin. She’s much too big, strong, and intimidating for adorable little Ori, with his genuine smile and plush knit sweaters. So as he strolls up the way, she just continues chopping. 

But then it becomes apparent that he’s headed right for her, and soon enough, Ori’s standing at her side. She catches him flinching as she brings the axe down a final time, only to leave it embedded in the stump, the split log toppling to either side. She glances aside at Ori, who’s looking in awe at her work. It makes her blush awkwardly. He always looks at her like she’s _so strong_ , even though his eldest brother’s more so, and she thinks she’s become rusty and out of practice over the years. And it’s not exactly the sort of thing she’d like Ori to think of her as. But it is what it is, and she waits for him to look back at her. 

When he does, his cheeks turn a little pink around his freckles. He’s already a cutie, but blushing, he’s nearly irresistible. He looks down at the tray of fresh buns in his hand, then back at her, and opens his mouth to say, “I thought I’d bring you some breakfast, since you’re working so hard.” 

Dwalin blinks. Then she shifts her weight and lifts an arm to wipe some of the sweat off her bare forehead, having shed her cloak but wishing she were out of her coat too. Ori has a way of looking at her that makes her skin heat up, especially when he’s painted in admiration. She doesn’t want to be a protector figure like a guard or big sister, but then, she supposes it’s better than nothing. She winds up just answering, “Thanks,” and letting go of the axe. 

He thrusts the plate suddenly forward, and she takes it in her hands, the wood pleasantly cool despite the warmth of the buns. She hesitates to take it from him, only because she expects him to head off afterwards. 

But instead, he stays there, standing limply while Dwalin gets down to sit. She leans her back against the stump, and Ori, after fidgeting once, moves to sit down beside her. 

She tries to give him a reassuring smile, but Dwalin’s spent most of her life in a shell of stoicism, and she’s sure her smile’s more gruff than she means it to be. Ori sheepishly smiles back all the same, and Dwalin distracts herself from her embarrassment by picking up a bun. While she shoves it into her mouth, Ori opens his, as though he has something to say. 

But nothing comes out. She chews in the relative silence, broken only by the neighing of wild horses in the distance and the occasional bark of a dog. The air is thick with the scent of flowers, which isn’t quite Dwalin’s style, but is a pleasant change from trolls and goblins and wargs, at the very least. 

When she finishes that first bun, she asks Ori, “What is it?” She doesn’t mean to be demanding, but she’s curious.

He sighs. He’s much shorter than her, but so are most dwarves, and she doesn’t mind looking down at the top of his cute head, the round cut of his ruddy hair and the little braids. He says hesitantly, “I know I’m not a great warrior or anything...”

Even though she doesn’t know what that has to do with anything, Dwalin feels inclined to interject, “You’re still brave. You came on this quest, after all.” It makes Ori blink up at her in surprise, then clamp his mouth shut and blush deeper. 

And then, without a word of warning, he half turns towards her, lifting up off the ground, and he presses his mouth into hers. 

For that first split second, Dwalin doesn’t understand anything: she’s caught in the limbo of shock. 

Then she realizes she’s being _kissed_ by _Ori_ , and she surges down to meet him, tilting her face so their noses don’t have to grind together so hard. The softer tuft of his beard melds with hers, and she rubs their chins together while their lips move, not quite open but not quite closed, parting just enough for her to run her teeth along his bottom lip. She wants to shove her tongue into his mouth, but before she can, he’s pulling back. 

His eyes stay closed for a moment longer than hers. When they open, giddiness twists over his face. He asks breathlessly, “Was that okay?” 

She means to say ‘yes,’ but instead blurts, “You like me?” 

“Of course,” he says, like it’s plain as day. “You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. Do you like me?”

She doesn’t answer. Instead, she turns to put the tray of buns on the log. 

Then she grabs his face and launches forward. She kisses him so hard that he’s knocked over into the grass, squealing delightedly below her.


End file.
